


The Layton Brothers

by askalfendilaytonmod



Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askalfendilaytonmod/pseuds/askalfendilaytonmod
Summary: Sometimes, Potty and Placid have to work together to get the best out of one another.





	The Layton Brothers

_Go on, I dare you_.

“No,” Placid muttered. “Go away. I’m working.”

_Coward._

Gritting his teeth, Placid continued to fill out the paperwork detailing the case he and Lucy had just slammed shut. Lucy herself was filling out a related form, her light humming filling the space of the Mystery Room. It was a nice sound, but the voice in his head continued to drown it out.

 _If I were in control, I’d have done it by now_.  _You don’t have the guts_.

“Stop.”

 _What’s the delay?_  The teasing turned to scorn, and Placid detected a hint of stress in Potty’s invasive thoughts.  _You’re just going to sit here and wait again? Decide against it even though you want to? She’s not going to be available forever, you fool! You can’t do this every day!_

“Stop!” Placid hissed, putting his head in his hands.

The room turned to silence, before a small voice spoke. “Ee, sorry Prof. I weren’t meaning to annoy you.”

His head snapped up, and he met Lucy’s guilty expression. “What?”

“M’ humming. I didn’t even realise I were doing it, t’be honest.”

“No. No, Lucy, I’m sorry. That wasn’t directed towards you,” he tried to explain. His palms became sweatier. “It was… my other side was getting to me.”

She tutted, smiling a little. “Steady on, Potty Prof. You’ve had your fun with the criminal, your brother doesn’t deserve the harassment.”

Placid blinked. “Who? Brother?”

“Aye, brother,” she replied. “You two fight like brothers. You should learn to get along like brothers too.”

“An interesting notion,” he muttered. “But please, continue the humming if you like.”

“Actually, I were just finishing up.” Writing another few lines, she gathered the papers together, approaching him. “Here’s my report, Prof.”

Standing, he took it from her, touching her hand lightly. Electricity seemed to pass through his body.

 _Go on. Do it now._  Potty’s voice didn’t mock him anymore; instead, he was encouraging.

The moment passed too quickly. Soon, Lucy had packed up her things, and, with her bag slung over her shoulder, she threw him a cheerful look. “Night, Prof!”

He took a deep breath, and, just before she’d reached the door, courage propelled him forward.

“Lucy, wait.”

—-

_We’re not going to the opera, you do realise?_

Potty did up his tie, ignoring the voice cutting through his thoughts. He focused on his actions in attempt to drown it out: across, back, over, down, across, up, down.

 _We’re getting_ noodles  _before going to a movie. This is ridiculous_.  _I miss my pockets._

Tighten, loosen, tighten a little more. Perfect.

_Get us out of this tight-fitting nonsense. She’s just going to laugh._

“That’s exactly what a four year old would say,” Potty replied, smirking. “I used to wear suits every day before you came along. You should try not dressing like a slob, for once.”

Something that was the equivalent of Placid’s groan entered his mind. Fiddling with his cuffs, he looked at his reflection.

It was a strange clash of worlds, Potty thought. His clothing was fitting,  _appropriate_ , but his hair remained somewhat wild. Still, he was learning to like the longer length. He couldn’t really remember what it had been like to have short hair.

Smoothing his clothing, he glanced at himself once more in the mirror and tried to picture the date that was soon to unfold. Dinner was at a small noodle shop Lucy occasionally bought lunch from, and afterwards they were going to see a new Sherlock Holmes movie. Both he and Lucy had already declared that they would unravel the mystery before the other. He may just have his work cut out for him, given that she’d solved the case from the other day before he had.

As he continued to consider the night, he frowned, fidgeting a little. The noodle shop was often crowded, and the cinema was full of greasy remnants of popcorn and other snacks. The locations didn’t quite match his clothing.

 _Finally realised I’m right?_  Placid’s voice was too satisfied for his liking.

“Shut up,” Potty snapped. “If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t even be going on this date. Does it really matter if I’m a bit overd-”

A knock sounded at the door. Glancing at himself once more, he sighed. Of course it mattered that he was overdressed, but there was nothing that could be done about it now.

Opening it, he was met with Lucy’s beaming face. “Evenin’, Prof!”

It was impossible not to smile. “Hello, Lucy.”

She pulled him into a quick hug. He’d have liked it to last a little longer; the embrace was warm.

“All ready to go?” She gave him a once-over, amusement falling onto her features. “You look like you’d be ready to meet the Prime Minister, if that were what we were doing.”

Clad in a pair of jeans and a coat, with a thick, woolly scarf, he noted that she was considerably more casual than he was.

“Argh… it’s too much, isn’t it?”

 _Told you_.

She grinned. “A mite, but you look lovely. I’m surprised Placid let you get ‘im into that suit, though.”

“He did put up a fight.”

“I don’t suppose you listened though, aye?”

“Aye,” he repeated. “I didn’t.”

“Did he want his usual outfit?”

“Something like that, yes. I didn’t think that would have worked either.”

Lucy hummed gently, a hand on her chin. “You’re right, but you should both learn to listen to each other. Do you have that big, navy jacket you were wearing the other day?”

He fetched it from his room, and she helped him remove his coat, replacing it with the jacket. Loosening his tie a little, she stood back.

“There we go; you’ve got a dress shirt and a tie with a nice, comfy jacket. Are both of you happy?”

Placid emerged for just a second, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. He put his hands at his sides, glad to feel that he could slot them into the pockets.  “This is much nicer. Thank you, Lucy.”

“You wouldn’t ‘ave needed my help, if you’d just listened to one another in the firs’ place.”

Potty returned, smirking. “Perhaps one day, dear Baker. Perhaps one day.”

—-

_Don’t panic, or you’ll screw this up._

The small box felt heavy in his pocket, so obvious and clumsy that Lucy would spot it as soon as she saw him. None of this was going to be a surprise, like it was supposed to be. He could already sense disaster ahead.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t remember my lines,” Placid muttered.

_This isn’t a theatre performance! You don’t need to deliver a monologue!_

His hands shook as he glanced around the courtyard. She wasn’t there yet. Good. He’d probably have run if he saw her then.

It didn’t make sense to him; he could face criminals who longed to bash his skull in without a second thought, but this? This was terrifying.

He could almost hear Potty sigh.  _What’s wrong?_

“I’m going to mess it up. You should be in control right now.”

 _Don’t you thinking I’m_ trying? _Your emotions are all over the place, I can’t get through! This is up to you, Placid!_

That meant it would be his fault if things didn’t go well. “What if she says no? What if she doesn’t want to marry me, or you, or  _us?_ ” Placid leant against the brick wall, feeling faint. It was a warm day, but he felt cold, shivering.

_She’s going to say yes, we both know that. It was her who mentioned marriage months ago. What are you really worried about?_

Placid fumbled on the words for a few seconds, before they finally fell out of his mouth. “I’m not good at this kind of thing. Even if she says yes, I won’t say everything that I want to, or that you want to, or-”

_Who gives a damn if it’s perfect?! Do you think that Lucy will seriously critique this? You know she’s not like that! We have the rest of our lives to say what we like to her, and I don’t plan on getting murdered any time soon. Do you?_

As Placid’s fingers continued to tap against the wall behind him, his concerns refusing to subside, Potty tried again. _It’s going to be fine. This isn’t a case; you don’t have to get it 100% correct. You only need to be 100% sure that this is what you want to do. Are you?_

“Of course I am,” Placid replied, trying to straighten up. He smoothed his suit jacket – an insistence from Potty – and repeated himself. “Of course I am. I love her.  _We_  love her.”

_Then I promise you, it will be fine._

He breathed in, then out again as he looked up to the open sky. It was a calm day. He knew that had to mean something.

“Hello!”

His head snapped down. There she was: beautiful, free, happy. That’s what mattered most.

The plan was to go for a walk, to discuss nothing that mattered at first. Then slowly, he’d begin; he was going to talk about how much happier she’d made him, how she brought out the best of both his sides, how he was so proud of how hard she worked and how dedicated she was to everything she did. How he was so sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, if she would let him. Then, as they reached the water fountain in the middle of the courtyard, he’d ask her.

That had been the plan, but in that second, he knew that it didn’t matter.

Without a word, he got down on one knee.

—-

_You need to relax._

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

 _My problem is that I don’t want to do things. Yours is that you don’t want to stop, and that you go too far_.

“Shut your mouth, Placid,” Potty muttered under his breath.

_I’m not even speaking._

He tried to remain focused on his paperwork. Rather, he tried to make it appear that way, but most of his attention was on Lucy, who was sitting silently on the other side of the room. She hadn’t said much in the past thirty minutes, and the silence had not gone unnoticed by him.

_She’s fine. If it was urgent, she’d have told us._

Potty was about to hiss that Lucy was the type to keep her troubles to herself, before out the corner of his eye, he spotted her stand up. He immediately did the same. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, jus’ grabbing a cup of tea. Would you like one?”

“I’ll get it, it’s okay.”

Lucy frowned for a moment, before she rolled her eyes. “Honestly, I can do it, Alfendi.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got it. You just… just stay here, okay? Don’t worry about the paperwork either, it’s not urgent.”

“If only you’d told me that when I’d just started workin’ here. You were far too insistent on it, Prof.” Still, after sighing, she did what he asked, placing her hands on her stomach as she sat again.

Potty began making the tea: a brew his father had told him would help prevent the fatigue that Lucy was beginning to experience. Wondering whether he should use water that wasn’t quite boiling, just in case she was to spill it, Placid cut in before he made the decision.

_Being pregnant hasn’t made her clumsy, and giving her poorly-made tea isn’t going to keep her safe._

“Just how are you so calm about all this? Aren’t you worried about what could happen to her, and our child?”

 _Of course I am. I just know that she’s capable of making her own_ hot _tea without anything disastrous happening._

“She shouldn’t be working.”

_We both know she’ll be working until she absolutely cannot. Nothing will keep Lucy Baker-Layton away from the Mystery Room._

“What’s taking so long with my drink? I should ‘ave made it myself.”

“It’s a new blend that my father recommended. Patience.”

Her arms wrapped around his front, and she leaned against his back. He could feel the slight bump of her stomach. “Patience isn’t the firs’ thing that comes to mind when I think of you, Potty. You’re a bad influence on me.”

“I can hardly tell you that you’re wrong, can I?”

“Nope.”

He finished brewing the tea, and they took a few moments to drink it together. His father had been right; he felt sharper afterwards. Lucy commented the same.

Cleaning up before she could offer, he saw her roll her eyes again.

As the day drew to a close, he finished up the last of the tasks, looking up. His heart almost stopped when he saw that Lucy was no longer at her desk. He hadn’t heard her move, though he’d tied to pay attention to her all afternoon.

_I assure you, she hasn’t been kidnapped._

Relief flooded through him when he spotted her orange hat peeking over the couch. Easing towards it, he saw that her eyes were closed, her stomach rising and falling gently.

 _She’s just sleeping_.

“Obviously,” Potty whispered.

_You were worried there for a moment._

“Of course I was.”

_This doesn’t have to always be terrifying, you know. Try doing nothing, for once, to just take things as they come._

“That’s never come naturally to me.”

 _I could say the same about proposing to a woman, yet you made me do that._  Placid’s voice wasn’t bitter, but gentle.  _You remember what she said, all those years ago, about listening to each other. This time, listen to me_.

As much as it pained him to admit it to himself, Potty knew that Placid was right; he couldn’t go on like this. As Lucy stirred, Potty carefully sat down beside her. She blinked for a moment, looking up before moving to lie next to him, and he put his arms around her, resting his hands on her stomach.

Somewhere underneath his fingertips was their child. The thought was surreal, and with it came too much of the unknown. He realised that this wasn’t like a case, however. It would be impossible to solve this mystery no matter how hard he tried; the only thing he could do was wait.

“You’re goin’ t’be a great dad,” Lucy breathed, pulling him from his thoughts. “You and Placid.”

 _I told you_.  _Everything is going to be fine_.

“Thanks,” Potty murmured, to both of them.

Closing his eyes, he forgot his worries for a while as he rested alongside his emerging family, peace descending upon them.


End file.
